One Last Thing
by Kirishtu
Summary: Coming back from battle, a man decides there's no time like now to say the words that mean the most.


Originally posted on aff 2011-05-20

**One Last Thing**

Grimscar woke with his face in the dirt and an egg-sized lump on his head. He scented blood and gore, sweat, shit and urine. War. He pushed himself up and shook off the corpse atop him. The night elf corpse hit the ground and sprawled out next to him. The orc warrior dragged himself to his feet and peered around him.

The battlefield looked like it had been abandoned for hours. Carrion crows circled above while other scavengers tore at the dead for what meat they could get. Grimscar shaded his eyes and found the bodies of foe and friend alike stretching all around him. Yet he was alive. He tried to remember what had transpired. The attack had come out of nowhere or so it seemed. Dwarves had exploded out of tunnels beneath their feet and arrows rained down on their heads. The Horde had answered the Alliance threat with arrows and axes, cutting a swathe of devastation through the ranks. Blood-scent urged on the bloodlust; Grimscar remembered his arm swinging in automatic motion, cutting down any elf, human, dwarf, worgen, draenei, or gnome that happened to get in his way. Then he remembered a fierce pain in the back of his head – then nothing but waking up amidst a field of carcasses and corpses.

He was alive. Why?

Grimscar picked up his broadsword and began a slow, wending path off the battlefield. As he walked he became too aware of his surroundings. The smell of death was overpowering. He climbed onto a ridge and looked out onto the lava-filled chasm that separated the Barrens. Desolation Hold was a hazy image in the distance. He veered toward it, boots squelching into blood-soaked earth the entire time.

Grimscar reached Desolation Hold by dusk. He crawled in between the gates and nearly collapsed on the ground by the front gate of the hold itself.

"Well, don' ya look like shit."

Grimscar looked up at a troll female dressed in leaves and feathers and leather and not much else. Blue tresses spilled over thin shoulders, which were barely covered by anything resembling clothing.

"Nice to see you too, Zen'jiwa." Grimscar muttered.

Zen'jiwa crouched beside him. A moment later, her hand was wreathed in green light, and that light spread to his body. All of his wounds, aches, and pains vanished without a trace. "Amazin' ya walked out of dat mess." Zen'jiwa said with a hint of admiration.

Grimscar snorted. "I can't die yet. I still need to get revenge on Hellwolf."

"Didn't ya already do dat?"

"He still believes he fucked the Dragon Queen." Grimscar replied morosely.

Zen'jiwa hummed. "And what d'ya plan on doin' ta 'im?"

"Probably something that involves emasculation and a huge stick."

Zen'jiwa gave him a long, measuring look. "What kind of stick?"

"Haven't figured it out yet."

"Uh-huh."

Grimscar looked up at Zen'jiwa. "Why are you here, anyway?"

The troll druid grinned widely. "For the God Emperor, of course." She leaned aside and allowed Grimscar to see a huge silithid quietly munching on what looked like bones. "He was gettin' lonely, so I came here ta find 'im a playmate. 'Course, Sekha got to 'em first."

Grimscar remembered the orange-tressed troll shaman. He shuddered. Zen'jiwa's gaze softened. "It was bad out d'ere. Saw it as I was flyin' over."

"One huge push from Honour Stand." Grimscar said softly. "They'd planned it, and it was brilliant. I'm surprised I walked off at all." He slowly got to his feet and leaned on Zen'jiwa for support. She pulled him inside the Hold and brought him to an empty room. He saw her packs lying on the floor, one open. He could see the tiny spelled crystals that held Zen'jiwa's mounts and little companions, along with a jeweler's case and several uncut gems. He flopped on her bed. She began to help him pull off his armour. The plate and male crackled as it hit the floor. Zen'jiwa made a noise at the amount of blood on otherwise unmarred green skin.

"Ya be very lucky," she told him, her voice low. Her fingers trailed over revealed flesh.

"Told you. I can't die yet." Grimscar replied just as softly. He looked up into the druid's expressive eyes. "Besides getting revenge on Hellwolf, there's one other thing I have to do."

Zen'jiwa's eyes roamed his face. "And what would dat be?"

Grimscar slowly maneuvered himself into a position with as much leverage as he could get. He knew he was being watched, but he couldn't let that stop him. He lashed out with all the speed his tired muscles would give him and caught Zen'jiwa's neck as she recoiled. He pulled her hard against him and kissed her deeply. When he pulled back, they were both panting. "To tell you," Grimscar began quietly. He looked at their joined hands. "To tell you that I love you." He looked back at Zen'jiwa's face. "And to ask you something extremely important."

"What?" her voice was barely a whisper.

Grimscar took a deep breath. "Would you do me the honour of being my wife?"

He saw Zen'jiwa's mouth drop open. He heard nothing from her but what seemed to be a high-pitched "Raawk!" and he eased back just in case she was going to go for his throat with her teeth.

He waited a few more tense, silent minutes before he dared to utter a sound. She was on him like a boomchicken on cake before the first syllable of her name escaped his mouth. Anything else he could've said was muffled anyway because her mouth quickly covered his. Her weight pushed him down onto the bed and soon they were a tangle of limbs, cloth and leather.

"I'll take that as a 'yes'." Grimscar said as soon as he could breathe again.

Zen'ijwa licked her swollen lip. "What would ya have rathered? A swoon? Rabid moonfire? Sacrifice to the God Emperor?"

"Something other than raging boomchicken tackle probably would've been more desirable."

"Pfft." Zenjiwa propped herself up on her elbow and studied the orc warrior for a long moment. "Ah, I be knowin' a proper way of sayin' I'll be ya lawfully wedded wife."

"I want you to know you frighten me."

Zen'jiwa grinned at Grimscar then rolled to straddle his waist. Her hands slid over exposed green skin, and her hips settled _justso_against his crotch. Then she began to gyrate just her hips, her hands held steady on the twitching muscles of his abdomen.

Grimscar's hands settled on Zen'ijwa's hips. His thumbs grazed her hipbones each time she moved. Blood was rushing to his groin, his cock slowly rising beneath the leather confines of his pants, against the heat of Zen'jiwa's body. She met his gaze as she continued to move and smiled at him. Her hands slid from his bare stomach to the belt of his pants. Agonizingly slow, she slipped the belt free of the clasp and peeled it off. Six devilishly deft digits opened the button, and slid down the zipper. She shifted, sliding back to sit on his thighs. Her right hand slipped inside his pants and drew him out, gently massaging the hardening flesh.

Grimscar's head hit the pillow and he let out a quick groan. Zen'jiwa smirked. "Not like a goblin, huh?"

Grimscar made a noise that was between a curse and a groan. Zen'jiwa took pity on him (so she might claim later, if pressed, under duress) and pulled back completely. Her hands went to her own armour and she removed it slowly, piece… by… piece… until she was completely revealed to Grimscar. His fingers trailed over the scars on her skin – some he knew the stories behind, some he didn't. His fingers slowly trailed down her stomach until he could reach her clit with his thumb. He pulled her forward as he started making circular motions, feeling her twitch and bite back whimpering moans above him.

"Not like a troll, huh?" he quipped back. Zen'jiwa glowered at him with her patented Boomkin Stare. Grimscar felt proud that he didn't lose his composure. Instead, he pulled her further forward and let his fingers slide between her legs, over slick and aching folds of skin. His fingers slid into deeper warmth and he twitched them just enough to make Zen'jiwa inhale sharply. Her hips pushed back against his fingers; Grimscar was all too happy to oblige her.

He rolled them so that she was beneath him. He forced her legs further apart and watched his fingers disappear into that tightening silky hole. Zen'jiwa's fingers clutched the bedsheets beneath her as her body arched and writhed and finally Grimscar couldn't deny himself – or her – any longer. He pulled Zen'jiwa closer to him and felt her heat against the head of his cock. She was slick and burning; she lifted her legs and pulled him forward, into her. They both groaned as Grimscar sank into her, going deeper until his hips finally rested against hers. Zen'jiwa purred into his ear, nibbled on the lobe, then bucked her hips up. Grimscar didn't need any more urging – he drew out of that tight silky heat as far as he dared, then drove himself back inside with enough force to make the bed bounce and to make Zen'jiwa squeak instead of mewl.

He kept that pace. Her hands slid along sweat-soaked skin as his braced his body above her. He stared down into her eyes – when they were open, anyway – and they both gasped for air with each thrust he gave. Zen'jiwa mewled and moaned and writhed, growing tighter and tighter with each consecutive thrust. Soon, Grimscar was in a fleshy vice, and he could feel his own release approaching, slowly crawling up his balls to his brain. His thrust became sharper; Zen'jiwa's noises became louder – and then she rose too high and crested, her body pulsing as she cried out Grimscar's name. He groaned as he followed her over, his cock pulsing against slick inner walls as he spilled every last drop inside of her.

Slowly, they parted. Grimscar all but flopped onto Zen'jiwa's bed beside her, his hand on her naked belly. She closed her eyes and caught her breath. "I guess it's true what dey say 'bout orcs." She said at last.

Grimscar propped himself up on his elbow to look down at her. "And what's that?"

"Once ya go orc, there's nothing else ta pork."

Grimscar couldn't help the snort/choke that gurgled in his throat. Zen'jiwa just grinned at him.


End file.
